


Trust your Bones

by Aondeug



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:10:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3996712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aondeug/pseuds/Aondeug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The loops of time need to be ironed out just so, a fact the Handmaid knows well. She is the one plotting out the course of Alternian history on order, after all. What she doesn't know so well is how to handle a certain fussy jadeblooded rebel. The course of their relationship must play out just so, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time they meet can hardly be called a meeting, at least by most standards. The Girl will look back on this as the first meeting, though. She doesn’t know this at the time, standing on the top of that hill. Only five sweeps into her life, she has no reason to think this will be significant to her personally.

 

She is simply on yet another job. As always she had arrived at least an hour early to make sure she gets it done at the right moment. God knows what would happen if she didn’t get things done right, and so she continues to watch the scene below her intently. Her time will come soon.

 

A culling is going on, she sees. It’s not one of the quick and simple ones. No drone bursting in and tearing a troll to pieces before moving on to the next hive to clear out. The culling is one of those slow, agonizing ones reserved for traitors. She’s read about them in the books that He has let her have. Treason warrants public culling, and a torturous sort at that. Can’t let people think they can just get away with this, after all.

 

The Girl does not yet understand that, in a way, she’ll be the cause of all this. That the course of this brutal culture was orchestrated in part by her isn’t something she quite understands now. What she does understand is that the sound of this culling is horrifying. She has seen death already. More than a few times actually, and she’s even been the cause of it. This is her first time witnessing torture, however. She watches him kicking madly as he hangs from the irons, shouting all the while. Shouting and screeching and cursing everyone and everything. It’s his own damned fault, but the sound is chilling.

 

On top of the howling there is the crowd. There is a multitude of onlookers beneath her and she turns to watching them. Maybe it’ll help block the sound out. Some of the people she sees seem to be grieving. They fall to their knees and shout protests. More than a few are wailing. One man breaks free from the crowd, rushing past a drone. He runs towards a guard, a club raised. Poised to fight or not he is shot down by the archeradicators before he even makes it halfway. As he falls to the floor to bleed out the Girl sees that his blood is a deep purple. Someone so high up risked death solely to protest the death of some mutant with strikingly red blood.

 

The rest of the crowd are driven instead by a vengeful glee it sounds like. She hears jeering and chanting. Why some even burst into laughter, one man going so far as to point at a weeping woman as he guffaws. A few take to physically harassing the mourners. The archeradicators shoot one of these trolls down too. To keep order the Girl assumes, and she frowns at that. She sits down and pulls her knees to her chest. Authority pisses her off more than anything, save maybe the color green. Still she has a job to do, so she tries to think on that. Her job is simple, very simple. Soon a man will try to stop someone and he’ll need to have a rock flung at his head. Easy enough.

 

Someone breaks from the crowd again, she spies. A lanky man in yellow tries to hold the person back, but he fails having been pushed to the ground. It’s a woman, maybe, and she runs not for a drone but the man in the irons. A guard raises a bow to shoot her down like the others, but a giant of a man with arrow shaped horns holds a hand up; she won’t die here. Free to run, the Woman only makes it about halfway before she falls to her knees. Not because she was shot or pulled down by someone, but simply out of upset it looks like. The Girl watches her and it seems strange really, and not at all like her books or what she’s seen. Curious and still frowning because of that god awful screaming she watches as the Woman hunches over. She pulls at her hair and clothes, and pounds at the dirt.

 

 

Interesting as that all is it doesn’t stop the pained howling. Frustrated, the Girl clasps her hands over her ears and curses. Just make the fucking screaming stop. Please. Her wish is granted by the man with arrow shaped horns. Large great bow raised he looses an arrow at the condemned. The man in the irons is struck and he gives one last great swear. With that his kicking stops and the screaming too. Thank God. The time is coming, the Girl knows as she lowers her hands. She stands in preparation and stretches. Being punctual is important, but she wishes that she didn’t have to wait around so long. Maybe she’ll get better at the time travel as she grows, she thinks as she shuffles about.

 

A terrific roar echoes forth from both sides of the crowd. Some are booing in disappointment and others are screaming their praises to the sky and others still are mourning. As the corpse is taken down two trolls walk out towards the condemned. They head to the Woman and the one, the man in yellow from earlier, kneels down beside her. He puts an arm around her, but the Woman pushes him off. The second troll from the crowd, a woman with impossibly bushy hair, drops to the ground and curls up. The Woman pushes herself to her feet and walks off to the dead man. No one moves to stop her. Why would they? There’s no point when the bastard is dead. One of the guards points at her and seems to laugh. And why wouldn’t he when the Woman drops down and cradles the corpse in mourning? That’s just the trollish thing to do. Mock the weak.

 

“Stop dawdling,” a familiar and stern voice says. The Girl turns back and scowls up at the Other Her. God, she becomes the most unpleasant bitch later in life. Look at the Other Her glaring down at her like she’s a stupid kid. Annoying. The Other Her shrugs, “Whatever. Another will do it instead if you don’t.” That said she walks off, not giving the Girl a chance to answer back. Not that she wants to. Why would she when all she’ll get is another scolding and an exasperated rolling of the eyes?

 

Bitchy or not the Other Her has a point. The Girl has a job to do unless she feels like letting the Dead Hers start piling up. Cursing herself the Girl looks around for a suitable rock. They’re all stupid rocks but she has to pick the exact right one, and God help her if she fucks that up. One looks just right and she picks it up with her telekinetics, praying that it’s the correct one. Rock in hand, so to speak, she looks about for her target. She sees the Other Her walking into the crowd like a creepy weirdo as she searches. Whatever. There’s a job to do and there’s the job now. It’s the man in yellow chasing off after the bushy haired woman. She shoots the rock out at him with terrific speed. It hits him square on the head and he drops to the ground. Just like she needs.

 

Job done the Girl turns away from the scene, having to leave. There’s some more shouting about God knows what. She ignores it as she pulls out her music box and winds it up. Much as she’d like to “dawdle”, the Other Her would probably just come back to bitch at her. It’s back to the manse to flip over another tea tray.

 

  



	2. Chapter 2

They did not meet again for two sweeps. This was fine with the Girl, of course. She was used to seeing people once, maybe twice. Truthfully, the Woman had slipped from her mind entirely by the time of this, their second meeting.

 

She trudges along through the sands, having recently finished a job. The Woman is far from her mind and instead her mind is solely focused on not returning to the mansion. She’ll probably be beaten for it, especially if she arrives “late”. At the moment, however, she doesn’t really care. Even a brief moment of freedom is worth it, punishment or no.

 

For about an hour her time alone is entirely worthwhile, she thinks. There’s no one to talk to and definitely no one to order her around. Even had she wanted company, which she somewhat wanted admittedly, there was no one on this damned planet with a drop of concern for a child. Certainly not a lowblood child. She’d just have to run if she ran into anyone alone; the likelihood of attempted murder or enslavement was simply too high.

 

This came about because of her actions, she has finally learned. While the course of things is still unclear to her she better understands what this means, at least in concept.

 

The thought is somewhat troubling, and it’s souring her moment of freedom some. She kicks a rock that she spies. Watching it tumble down a dune she tries to think only on that one simple act of violence. Yes. Good. Much better than the overwhelming knowledge that even should she be able to run away there wouldn’t be a moment to stop. The kicking is entirely of her own volition though. Yes, it may be fated to happen but for the moment she doesn’t care. It still feels meaningful.

 

So caught up in this the Girl doesn’t notice that a troll is coming up behind her. No, instead of paying attention like she should be she gathers more rocks to violence. One she throws, another she kicks, and a third she nudges again and again until it tumbles down. This is stupid and dumb, but it’s amusing and that is all that counts until she hears someone say, “Oh, hello there!”

 

The Girl’s eyes widen and she turns around to see an adult troll. Fully grown trolls are never a good thing to run into alone when things aren’t on your terms. The troll is a tall woman, lanky and thin, and she is dressed in a dress colored here and there with a dark green. Judging by Alternian fashion sense, of which there were few rules, she’d likely be a jade blood. That fact alone would have been weird enough to the Girl and anyone else, but there was something that blew that fact out of the water: in the Woman’s arms was a grub of a sickly red color. What kind of gross weirdo takes mutant grubs with them? Or grubs at all?

 

Friendly seeming or no, the Girl doesn’t feel like risking a scuffle. She turns around and runs off, planning to head to back to the mansion. A fact that makes her swear. Everything was fine and fun, and it was supposed to stay that way. She ignores the call of, “You don’t have to run! And where is your lusus? You shouldn’t be out alone!” The Woman continues to protest this all, and the Girl guesses that she might follow which would be a bother. She won’t be caught though. She can’t be caught.

 

Not unless she’s a stupid idiot who trips over her own damned feet though. Which she is. Ankle twisting the Girl sucks in a breath from the pain. Though she tries to catch herself she fails and over the edge of the sand dune she goes. The damnable jadeblood continues to cry out, God knows what it is right now. The Girl isn’t exactly paying attention as she rolls down the sand.

 

And then she finally comes to a pause. Everything hurts and this whole rebellion thing is officially no longer worth it. A beating and a scolding AND falling down a hill while some freak harasses her. Said freak wasn’t letting up either, as the Girl sees. The Woman calls out that she’ll only be a moment and that, oh, she hopes you’re fine, sorry. Which adds to the Girl’s ever growing list of reasons to find this person entirely sketchy. God, she hopes that she falls. The Woman does not, though. She comes close to it, stumbling on her way down but catching herself. God dammit, she hasn’t fallen over and the one possible delight of this situation is now dead. Sighing, the Girl stands up, and begins brushing the sand off her skirt. Can’t be punished for dirty clothes on top of all this.

 

The Girl wrinkles her nose at all this, and she looks around her. At her feet is a rock, one of the ones she tossed, she figures. Kneeling down she picks it up. Let the Woman come, she’ll show her. Then off to the manse it’ll be. Unfortunately.

 

Grub still in her arms the Woman closes the distance between them. The grub is hissing in upset and why wouldn’t it be, being dragged down a hill by some freak. Cringing the Girl watches as the Woman tries to shush the thing up, as she should. Still the Woman is doing it not out of annoyance seemingly. There’s not a hint of exasperation to her. If anything she looks concerned, a fact which is added to the list.

 

“Sorry about that, again. I didn’t mean to scare you,” the Woman says to her as she nuzzles the grub. It seems mollified by this and finally ceases in its hissing. The thing does take a nip at the Woman’s cheek though. Good. Really, the Girl should just leave now. She definitely has the opportunity, but this whole display is intriguing. It’s just so counter to everything she knows about her kind. Granted, it could just be some exceptionally convoluted ruse for thieving, who knows. That seemed by far the most likely thing at the moment, actually. Bitten or no the Woman gives the grub a kiss on the head. Why the gesture outside of romance the Girl can’t guess. Unless it is romantic in which case the Girl really doesn’t want to know. The thieving angle remains the most likely in her mind.

 

However, the Woman isn’t content to just stand there and continue with her charade from a distance. No, she makes her way closer to the Girl. She tries to nose her way about and check for injuries by the sound of her muttering. The Girl steps back and hisses at the Woman.

 

Frowning at the Girl the Woman takes the hint. She steps back and gives a huff of frustration. The moment doesn’t last long though, because the Woman’s face softens right back and she says, “Sorry about that. I just want to make sure that you’re not hurt. I’ll keep back if you honestly want.” No response is made. She waits a moment before asking, “Can I check?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The Woman wrinkles her nose and shifts her hold on the grub a bit. “You’re not a very talkative child are you? Suspicious though, which is a good trait. Unfortunately,” she says.

 

“No and yes,” the Girl answers. She squeezes her rock firmly, a fact that the Woman seems to notice. That is a cause for concern. Most things on Alternia are causes for concern really, because most anything can be and usually is a threat.

 

Threat or not the Woman doesn’t try to throttle the Girl for her insolence. No, she kneels down to get at eye level with her. A scolding doesn’t come like she expects it to. The Woman just asks, “Where’s your custodian?” It is a question the Girl refuses to answer, even though the answer is “I don’t have one.” The Woman isn’t daunted however, “Are they hiding? Maybe you’ve got a nice clever lusus hiding in the dunes? They can come out you know.” Her tone is strange. She lacks a businesslike terseness to her, and she’s not upset with the Girl. The Girl thinks it’s odd but she doesn’t say that. Instead she just glares at the weirdo.

 

The Woman’s smile falls a bit and the Girl tenses up instinctively. Now is when she gets attacked, surely. It was in every other situation. She steps back, trying to get enough distance to toss her rock without alerting the Woman to her intentions. No attack comes though. The Woman simply asks, “You’re not an orphan are you?” Most trolls would look uninterested at that question, or even overjoyed. Easy kill or easy slave, either way. The Woman does not though. If anything she looks pained. Nothing of that seems right, and so the Girl refuses to answer. What would there be to say anyway?

 

“If you are I’d be happy enough to take you along with me,” the Woman says. Slavery. To be expected, the Girl thinks and she takes another step back. She has enough distance between herself and this weirdo now. Good. “Please don’t misunderstand. I mean, it does sound very off and like I’m here to collect a slave. That’s honestly not my intention though. More, I’d like to look after you. I already have this grub I’m acting like a sort of lusus to, so why not you as well?” the Woman says with seeming sincerity. How she can say that sincerely the Girl doesn’t understand.

 

Shocked as she is the Girl doesn’t have a reaction to it. Definitely not in words. She stops glaring at the Woman, if only because she’s so taken aback by this. What the fuck was this person?

 

“I won’t force you, and I definitely can’t anyway. Still if you are alone, I’d rather you not be. Alternia’s not a safe place for children, and certainly not those without a custodian. I’d like to try my best to keep you out of trouble if I can,” the Woman says smiling widely, “Granted, this probably will get us into trouble won’t it?” The grub wriggles in her arms and bites her again. She winces and chides it for this. Without missing a beat however she goes back to her mad rambling, “You don’t just run about with a grub, and definitely not a mutant after all. Still, I can’t see just leaving you here alone. If you are an orphan that is.”

 

“No,” the Girl says and, seeing the coming retort, she adds, “I have a guardian.” It’s true really, she supposes. Just not in the way the Woman probably expects.

 

The Woman stands up and says, “A run away then? I know how that goes. I ran away from my lusus when I was younger too. Or twice maybe?” She pauses to think on that a moment and shakes her head. “The number of times doesn’t really matter,” she says, “God, I can’t even remember exactly why I ran away now. I did though, because I was fed up with my lusus and I wanted to see things before I ended up in the caverns. That was probably why I left, if I think about it. Not being able to just go places. I felt rather proud of myself, look at me a big girl off on my own. After a few hours though, I realized that I made a mistake.” The Woman pauses again, as if to wait for a response from the Girl. As if she actually cares for her input. She doesn’t get any and so she continues, “Whatever your problems with your custodian are they can’t be that bad. Why don’t you try and go back to them? They probably miss you, you know?”

 

“Ok,” the Girl says, guessing that the Woman will want some sort of answer. If that will shut her up then good.  She’d have to go back but she didn’t want to. It'd be away from this freak, however. Still, it's not what the Girl wants to do. Really admitting to having a guardian was a mistake, because now her mood is thoroughly soured. She does her best not to show it though.

 

“You know with those horns and that attitude of yours you remind me a bit of someone I know. A friend of mine, I guess. It’s kind of hard to tell with her,” the Woman says as she sits down. She gently sets the grub down in her lap, and looks down at it. Probably checking that it’s fine. Satisfied she pulls from her a sylladex a book. The Girl watches as she turns it over in her hands fondly. “It’s a nice book, really. God knows how many times I’ve read the thing. Not everyone has the taste for religious verse, but I always did. Something just seems right about the endless drone. Comforting and like an old friend, even if it does drag on a bit at times,” the Woman says. She purses her lips, probably thinking about something. What, the Girl isn’t certain. Not until the Woman holds out the book towards the Girl.

 

The Girl raises a brow and looks at the book. She can guess that it’s supposed to be a gift, but the Girl doesn’t really understand that. It’s not that she hadn’t been given things. Certainly she had, but they were never gifts. Just things she’d need or that He wanted her to have for whatever reason. The Woman says, “It’s a gift, silly. Just take this book and run on home, all right? Your lusus is probably more than willing to give you more than just books, after all.”

 

Oh. It’s a bribe. Figures. Still the Girl takes the book, act of faux charity or no, because she knows the Woman won’t shut up otherwise. Which is stupid now that she thinks of it. She could have just left anytime she wanted to. What’s done is done though. Book in hand and glaring at the Woman she takes a step back. The Woman picks the grub back up and stands. As she brushes herself off the Girl makes a run for it. This time the Woman doesn’t seem to mind. There’s no calling after her or anything. It was just a bribe.

 

A suitable distance away the Girl slides behind a tree. Taking a breath she looks down at the book still in her hand. Bribe or not it’s something. It’s a book and not one of her history books that He gave her. Something that is hers in a weird sense. It will just be taken away, she knows, and so she tosses it down. The book isn’t hers, whatever she thinks. For the moment though it is and so she picks it back up. It’ll be taken away, but for now it’s hers to read. Dumb or not, she stops to read a bit of it. This really isn’t her sort of thing at all, but at least it’s not a history book or one of those horrible books of traditional Alternian blueblood poetry. It’s something new and she sits down as she reads.

 

More stupid than wasting time on something she can’t keep is the fact that she takes it back to the manse with her. Clutching it protectively she sneaks on through the halls towards her room. He knows and she knows He knows, but it’s the only chance she has really. Useless or not she may as well take it. She hides the book under the weird “bed” He forces her to sleep in. Recuperacoons do not go with the mansion’s decor, He says.

 

During tea that “night” He makes mention of the book, as well as how stupid she is for trying to hide it. Oddly, He lets her keep it. She doesn’t understand why, though she guesses it is probably some sort of stupid time thing. He seems to think the whole thing is rather funny so it has to be important. Whatever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this third chapter everything is in achronological order. The chapters will be collected together and placed in chronological order from the Handmaid's perspective when the work is finished. For now however there will be quite a bit of jumping about.

Even with the passing of a few “nights” the Girl remains frustrated with her “name”. She can’t even think of it as being a name proper, or imagine why it’s important. Yes, the Woman is earnest about damn near everything, but the “name” just seems so empty and useless a gesture. Insulting, really. Almost as empty was being declared a “friend”. Really, the Girl had thought of visiting the Woman again. Job or no job. Just to chat with her about something stupid, but the whole prospect was just soured by that. “Friendship” was wearying.  
  
Her plans to poke at the older jadeblood cancelled, the Girl sticks to idling about in her room during her free time. There’s precious little downtime for her, but she’ll be damned before she subjects herself to another boring lecture on her personal worth. _Oh, but I like you. You don’t have to be a good person, really, because trolls just aren’t._ Hah. What a bunch of bullshit. There were two types of people who didn’t require names and who damn sure didn’t warrant friendship: slaves and monsters. As chance would have it the Girl was both, and that overly sentimental woman was just an idiot.  
  
This line of thought can’t just leave her well enough alone, sadly. As the hours tick by the name keeps coming to mind. How the Woman said it, how overjoyed she looked at her decision. The Girl scowls and tries to ignore it, but poetry proves a worthless effort. Whether it’s reading or writing or reciting she just can’t put herself to it because the Maryam twit was the reason for her hobby. In some horrible twist of fate the Girl’s one source of joy was indelibly tied together with that freak.  
  
Where in childhood the Girl would throw her pens to the floor in upset she now simply glares at them. This does nothing and ultimately she sets them away, finally giving up on poetry for the “night”. The rest of her free time she spends reading through one of the dry Alternian history books He’s given her over the sweeps. Something about the tracking down of all the things she herself had caused is comforting. A coup she spurred on here, a murder or five there. Cold hard facts neatly lining up, and still so many more things for her to cause. There was work. Nothing more. As it should be.  
  
Later in the “night” she heads off on yet another job. Just an assassination down in the brooding caverns. Something easy. God, there were a lot of killings down there that she needed to cause directly or otherwise. The jadebloods had not left a good impression on her with all their squabbling like burrowing farmbolgers. To say nothing of their fussing which birthed _her_. Heading back to the caverns does nothing but worsen her mood, as does her continued lack of rations. Names did nothing but cause problems and for no reason, and everything just keeps getting worse.  
  
The job is clean and quick, however. She ends up in the caverns somewhere near the nesting patches. A short jog to the bell chamber and she is there. An ancient jadeblood who looks no older than ten sweeps at best opens the door to her block and the Girl strikes. There goes the elder Mother’s head and there the Girl goes to pick it up. Safely stored away in her sylladex, it waits until she can burn it later.  
  
Job done it’s back to the mansion, so she thinks. The clicking of a disturbed rock catches her attention, though. Music box put away the Girl turns to spy the last person she wants to see at the moment. In front of her stands that damnable woman. She’s young still, only about eleven sweeps and only recently turned. Still fearful of the Girl too, as she rightly should be. Keeping the times and ages all neatly sorted out no matter where she is is easy now. What isn’t easy, though it damn well should be, is leaving to let the Woman go on with her business. The Girl glares, unwilling to just leave.  
  
“Uh. Hi there,” the Woman says, a stupid grin on her face. She’s scared. That is somewhat pleasing, but only just barely. It can’t kill the overall irritation.  
  
The Girl stands stock still and continues to scowl at her. Her only response to the Woman is a curt “Hi.”  
  
“So I see that you’re. Well,” the Woman pauses and waves her hand a bit, looking for her words probably, “Having. A very productive day! Yeah. That.”  
  
“Master of the obvious there,” the Girl says with a shrug. “Seems like I’ve crashed your _productive_ day,” she adds pointedly. Why, yes, we do remember that you’re a pervert. It’s hard not to and the Girl is in the exact sort of mood to remind her of that.  
  
The Woman frowns at that comment. She seems bolstered by the insult though, and she stands straighter with defiance. “Yes, because all I do is run around fucking the timekeepers. Yeah. That’s me. Porrim Maryam, fucker of timekeepers.”  
  
“There’s the grub watchers too, and just about everyone down here,” the Girl says back in a deadpan tone.  
  
“You get my point, and the point is that I’m not happy with you reducing me to just a ‘whore’. So how about you cut the crap!” the Woman shouts at her.  
  
Which is just what they both do not need. The Girl rolls her eyes at her. Stupid, stupid, stupid, and so childish. God, the Woman isn’t going to stop either. As she’s raring up to throw a tantrum the Girl says, “Yes, let’s just wake up the whole joint. Great idea you have there, getting in trouble again. Also, whores get paid. You don't.”  
  
It’s cruel and insulting, and it’s meant to be. The words do shut the Woman up though. Good, good. Annoyed with her or not getting the Woman in trouble wasn’t exactly her idea of fun at the moment. It might mean more work for her in the end, she knows. The name comes back to mind now. She tries to push it back, but to no avail. Fuck.  
  
The Woman now quieter though no less pissed explains, “I was just going to deliver a note to the Mother here. That’s not going to happen now though, because you went and murdered her like you do everyone else. I guess it means one less person to be gofer for, though, so, sure. Let’s just thank you. Thank you for existing to fuck everything up. It means a lot.”  
  
Good God, does the Woman actually think she cares? A close look at her face says that, yes, she probably does expect the Girl to give a shit about her misgivings. The Girl shrugs and walks off without a word. She’ll just go on a nice walk. Maybe scare a woman for no reason at all. Then she’ll go back to the mansion and continue that trying to ignore her “name” thing.  
  
The Woman is stubborn as always though and walks off after her. At the very least she has the sense to shut up. It’s a pain to have her following like this either way, but there’s silence so she can’t be too upset with her. Instead the Girl makes up for it by being upset with herself, because she can’t just up and leave right now because that stupid, dumb, useless name has come to mind again. _It fits, doesn’t it? I think it does._ No, it really doesn’t. It’s not that the name is an unpleasant one. Has a nice sound to it and it feels nice in the mouth. The issue is that the Girl doesn’t need a name, but this Woman following her insists that she does because she’s a person.  
  
And the brat just won’t stop following her. The Girl stops and lets out an audible sigh. She knows the Woman isn’t going to leave. No, she’ll follow her to the ends of Alternia. Hounding her down and demanding that she answer for her crimes. An older her might leave her be, but at this age she’s still so green and so convinced that being contrary is the secret to winning everything. That’ll definitely get things fixed. “You’re stupid, you know,” the Girl says knowing that it won’t deter her. It’s more out of frustration than anything else.  
  
“So you take the time to remind me pretty much every time we meet,” the Woman says firmly. The Girl guesses that she’s standing straight and tall, trying to make herself fearsome. Which is hilarious and brings at least something of a smirk to the Girl’s face. The Woman is just too much of a bean pole. Too tall to be small, but too thin to be big.  
  
“If you don’t like it then why don’t you prove me wrong? Go back to your block,” the Girl says.  
  
There is silence. It’s the delightful silence of being right to the annoyance of another. She turns around to look at the Woman. Her face is screwed up in the same defiant frown she’s seen before. The Girl says nothing more, she simply waits. Satisfaction. Good. She’s curious too, just a bit. If there was anything intriguing about the Woman it was her gumption. Her tenacity seems to have died at the moment, though. A bit disappointing, but to be expected. Honestly, it’s preferable in a way.  
  
“Well. I don’t know, honestly,” the Woman admits.  
  
“Do it anyway. I have work to do.”  
  
“If you’re so busy then why haven’t you left?”  
  
“Maybe I have work here still.”  
  
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” the Woman says. She gives a huff of defiance. Thinks she has a point, probably.  
  
She does, really. There’s not a thing for the Girl to do down here, and she still hasn’t left. Like hell she’ll say that, though. She shrugs and answers, “Maybe I’m bored. How would you know?”  
  
“But you’re still here and you’re still talking to me. So you’ve got the time and you’re bored, but no, you’re just going to stay here talking to a ‘stupid girl’. If you’re the smart one then why don’t you leave?” the Woman asks, tone firm and confident.  
  
Everything is such a pain, and really the Girl isn’t sure why she hasn’t left. There wasn’t a sentimental bone in her body, but she was still here. “Do I need to give you an answer?” she asks.  
  
“Not really.”  
  
“Good. You’re not getting one, so run off,” the Girl says while turning back around, “I’ve got the time. You don’t.” The Woman doesn’t move, however. Whatever. The Girl isn’t going to stick around any longer, and so she pulls out the music box and winds it.  
  
She just wanted a nice walk. Just a nice walk to cool off and the Woman had to go and stick her nose in things, as was her wont. Back to the mansion the Girl goes and as the hideous lime green walls come into sight it comes back to her.  
  
_Samira._ It’s a nice name, she guesses. It’s just not hers.  
  
      



	4. Chapter 4

Completing the loops used to be difficult. The concept made an intuitive sort of sense, but intuition alone doesn’t get stable time loops fulfilled. Her childhood frustration is long dead by this point, however. The loops are just an everyday thing.  
  
Yet the loop for this day’s job leaves a knot in the Girl’s stomach. Her task for the day is simple enough, but it hits close to home. It is the loop that started it all. The feeling is weird and it annoys her, but the job has to be done either way.  
  
She steps into the Woman’s hive hmphing at the fact that a door was left unlocked. Young as the Woman was it was to be expected. Of course she’d be less mature and less cautious, but really an unlocked door was ludicrous on Alternia. Even in such a secluded part of the planet it could get you killed. Granted, a locked door wouldn’t stop a truly determined foe, and it damn sure wouldn’t stop the Girl. Still there’s a line between knowing that a measure is mostly useless and foregoing it entirely like an idiot.  
  
The hive is quite the sight to the Girl. Despite knowing the Woman for sweeps this is the first time she has ever seen the hive. She hasn’t even heard much about her home, the Woman talks so little of her life prior to the caverns. The hive’s design is horrendously bright. The manse is decorated with a sickening lime green that burns at the eyes, but at the very least it was just one good, solid color. As the Girl looks about the Woman’s hive she sees an abundance of color. Here and there are reds and greens and blues and oranges and more colors still. The color is all carefully coordinated, yes, and it doesn’t offend the eyes quite like the manse, yes, but the effect is overall thoroughly untrollish. Which is nice, really. In its own odd way. The Girl grins.  
  
She chases that thought away as best she can and forces her mouth back into a frown. There is a job to do, nothing more. A book is to be dropped off. Sentimental musings about some jadeblood’s hive were inappropriate. Inappropriate and useless.  
  
Her job is the book. The Book, in fact. She carries it in her left hand, though she could store it in her sylladex. It’s a dumb thing, another sentimental gesture that should be quit. The damned book is worth it though. Even if it was crucial in the birth of her weak point the book was special. It introduced her to her passion for poetry, after all. Her delights were precious few in number, and the few that were needed to be cherished. At least somewhat.  
  
She stalks through the hive silently, looking for the Woman. How old would she be right now? About seven sweeps. The same age the Girl herself had been when she received the book. A lot of time loops are silly pairings together of the circumstantially simultaneous. Which honestly isn’t that fascinating a thing. Or at least it shouldn’t be. Such a commonplace thing feels weirdly intimate at the moment, though. Quite like the feeling that arises when the Girl thinks back on that first meeting so many sweeps ago, or so many in the future from the Woman’s perspective. This little convergence of ages seems so very important when it honestly shouldn’t be. Not personally.  
  
Block after block is searched through with no sign of the Woman. Signs of her living here stand out though. In one room a pile of pillows has been disturbed. A single cushion lies away from the rest of the pile; probably kicked away when the Woman stood up. For what the Girl didn’t know and it didn’t matter. The point was the hive was lived in. The presence of that silly Maryam girl could be seen. In another block a book rests on a desk. It lays face down, its spine being stretched. The Girl sighs and flips it over, closing it. Just a simple maid duty, nothing more.  
  
Which is all this is, and the Girl pushes back her musings about the hive. _Her_ hive. This is just another small maid thing to get done so that the universe doesn’t fall apart. So she thinks as she steps into a block filled with rolls upon rolls of fabric. In the back of the room is a desk and at it the Woman sits.  
  
She is curled up over the desk and scrawling something out. Probably a design for one of the outfits she makes, used to make, will make. It’s a silly thing that brings to mind an equally silly memory. The Girl sitting with her back to a cave wall as the Woman’s son sleeps on. She talks, talked, will talk about how she used to sew. How she missed it. Which was, is, will be a shame. The Girl still had her passion, slave or no. So should the Woman.  
  
The Girl walks up to her quietly, as always. If she felt like having to clean up a mess and having to take a beating she could just kill the Woman now. There’d be no chance for a fight with her so young and so unaware. Which is a stupid thing and the Girl won’t do it, not in this timeline. She thinks that, in a way, it would be preferable for the Woman to just die now though.  
  
Instead the Girl leans forward, somewhat amazed by the lack of reaction from the Woman. Not a single tensing of the muscles, or even a nervous inhale. There’s no foreboding felt by her at all seemingly. Amused the Girl lingers for a moment. She is giving her one last chance to notice and the Woman fails at it entirely. “Boo,” the Girl says.  
  
Hopping back, she watches with satisfaction as the Woman jumps out of her seat with a shriek. She turns around, pale as a sheet, and brandishes her pencil. The end is dull and nubby, just like the horns of her son-to-be. It’d make for a shit weapon whoever her intruder was. Fun. The Girl says nothing though and simply stares on at the Woman, waiting for a reaction. What will you do now, Porrim? Balk in terror? Hiss and pretend you’re a big girl now? The possibilities were actually few in number, but each was amusing in its own way. Partly because the Girl could guess at them. The Woman bares her fangs and lets out a sharp hiss, at which the Girl smiles. It’s cute in a way, for all its impotence. As well as what it speaks of for the future. “What the hell are you doing in my hive!” the Woman shouts. It’s less an inquiry and more a panicked demand for the Girl to leave, she notes.  
  
The Girl ignores that demand, however, instead asking, “You know who I am, correct?”  
  
Silence speaks volumes at the best of times, and the Woman’s was especially vocal. Oh, she knew all right, and just as she should she lived in fear of the Girl. The Woman purses her lips and grips tightly at the desk behind her. She’s probably wondering if she could grab the scissors on her desk before the Girl kills her. Her not reaching back says that, quite sensibly, the Woman guesses that the answer is no. Being trapped breaks many, but it seems to bolster the Woman. Enough to speak at least two words, "I do."  
  
“You seem a bit tense,” the Girl says in a deadpan tone. It’s meant to be a joke, and it’s one the Woman doesn’t get. She might later on in life, but for the time being this all seems so deadly serious to her, given the look on her face.  
  
“Astute judgment,” the Woman says, her pencil still raised oh so fearsomely, “So. What are you doing in my hive?”  
  
“What do you think?” the Girl says coldly.  
  
The Woman draws in a deep breath. She’s growing frantic, and it shows in how her eyes nervously dart about. All the Woman can say is, “Oh. That.”  
  
At which the Girl laughs. To her this is one big joke. A cosmic fuck you that will forever bind the two of them together. The Woman is terrified even when she has no real reason to fear. None at all, though she doesn’t know it. “Good guess,” the Girl says, “It’s not on the mark though.”  
  
Even with that comfort laid out the Woman does not calm down. She remains tense, probably due to not trusting the Girl. Which is best and honestly she should have kept it that way. “Then?” the Woman asks.  
  
“Then what?”  
  
“Then what are you here for?” the Woman asks, a hint of exasperation in her voice. Good. Even when pissing her pants Porrim had a backbone. Enough to get fed up with her shit.  
  
“I’m here to make a delivery,” the Girl says while holding out the book, “Nice book of verses. Translation’s a bit clunky here and there, and I can’t say I care about the subject matter much. Religion just isn’t quite my passion. Has a decent enough sound to it though.”  
  
The Woman finally loosens up some. She looks at the Girl with disbelief, eyes wide and a brow quirked. “What?”  
  
“Yes. The book’s going to kill you,” the Girl says flatly. That joke is half true, really. In a way the book will kill her, if not directly. It’s the first step, so far as the Girl knows presently. The first step the Woman takes down their acquaintanceship, or “friendship” as the Woman will demand it be termed. It’ll be one that damns her.  
  
Still, the Woman doesn’t know that. All she knows is that the Demoness herself has arrived to be a sarcastic shit and give her a book, as far as the Girl can guess. “So you came to bullshit. Great,” the Woman says, her voice still small and wary. If she says too much she’ll die and if she says too little she’ll die. That’s probably what’s running through her mind at the moment, the Girl thinks. It’s the response that the Girl has been training her kind to have on the command of that cueball headed asshole. The cueball headed asshole who was always right.  
  
“I came here to give you a book, Porrim. Take it,” the Girl says curtly.  
  
Dropping her name like that works. The Woman reaches out and snatches the book from her hand. It gets tossed back on her desk along with the pencil. Her eyes never leave the Girl’s the entire time. And she’s glaring. Fun. “How did you know my name?” she asks.  
  
“How do you think?” the Girl asks. She’s curious about what sort of answer the Woman will give. What bizarre theory she would craft to rationalize this. How far off would she be? Amazingly far, probably.  
  
“Ok. So you stalked me. I’m not sure how that factors into killing me, or giving me this book for that matter. But we’ll just put that aside and laugh it off. It’s a joke. Ha-ha funny, whatever,” the Girl says. She’s still fearful. Has a spine but she’s afraid. Which is good. The bigger issue is how stubborn she’s being.  
  
The Girl rolls her eyes and says, “I’m not here to kill you. Don’t need to anyway.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Don’t you know you’re already dead?” the Girl asks, not feeling like offering up a clear answer nor a lie. There’s definite truth behind the Girl’s question but it’s not one the Woman will guess at. Not likely.  
  
“Yeah, I do actually,” the Woman says defiantly. Curious reaction, enough to make the Girl wonder. Huh. Maybe she’s not so clueless. The Woman continues, “However the simultaneous and yet also unreal nature of time isn’t the issue. Not from my perspective anyway. My present concern is why you of all trolls are in my hive.”  
  
Ah. Religious answer. The Girl had forgotten about that, really. Theology and cosmology haven’t come up much recently. A bit funny to forget though, given the content of the book. The curious jadeblood look on time and space shows up in most of their writing. This all makes the Girl nostalgic in a way. Springs up a small bit of curiosity too. Maybe she’d ask more about this sort of thing in the future.  
  
No. That’s dumb. Of course she won’t because that isn’t fucking work. She frowns, more at herself than the Woman. “I’ve already told you. Delivery. Now that it’s done I’ve got to get going,” the Girl says as she pulls out the music box, “Busy you know. Got trolls to murder for no reason.” She winds the music box while drinking in the perplexed fear emanating from the Woman. It’s funny. Smart too. If only she’d keep her sense. She won’t though, the Girl knows. As she lets go of the small key she gives a, “Bye.” The Woman won’t see her again for another two sweeps from her perspective. Not so from the Girl’s.  
      
  
   


	5. Chapter 5

   The most recent job had been something of a pain, and for all the wrong reasons. She had none of the excitement of fighting down a powerful purpleblood. No, the assassination of the Duke had been a matter of waiting. Waiting and watching and cursing Him for telling her that, no, it had to be done on the quiet. That was the style of a certain blueblooded Countess. God, the bitch must be lame at parties.

 

Robbed of any delight from her job, the Girl said to hell with the manse. Her time is going to be spent fucking around. Alone. In the desert. She’d be home right on time as she must be but the night wasn’t going to end on so shitty a note.

 

Not much to do in the desert though. She could go back to the Duke’s home and torment his servants for giggles but that was too dangerous. Can’t give them any reason to suspect that the Demoness was behind the job, or the Girl would have to go and haul one of her corpses back to the manse. Again. Which was less a thing of existential dread now and more one of annoyance. Fighting herself just wasn’t any fun though. She knew all her tricks and it was just another kick to the shins for her. Oh, look. You’re dead, except it’s not  you  you. Just this stupid, selfish bitch that you wish was you.

 

Urgh.

 

The Girl pauses in her walking and wrinkles her nose. She never used to make that sound. Maybe a disgruntled hrmm or an exasperated sigh. An urgh though? That was the trademark sound of the Woman. Who she had been blissfully able to avoid for an entire sweep. Hide nor hair of her had been seen and all the better for it, the Girl thinks.

 

Keeping that in mind the Girl continues with her walk. It is utterly uneventful for hours, just the way she likes. Sure, a pointless scuffle to the death with a dread Alternian sandworm would be fun, but silence was just as good. Not a single scathing comment from her boss or the whistling of a tea kettle, and not a damn tick to be heard. Perfect.

 

She comes across a settlement. Just a small tent. Abandoned now. Whoever had been there was probably dead by now or soon would be. The deserts were harsh and unforgiving. More so than the rest of the planet. She walks over and inspects the tent. A few blankets inside, a pillow too. Not very much and not a sign of a struggle. Who knows why the tent had been left, and who cares honestly. She stares down at the tent for a bit before kicking sand in it. Nice hard kicks that do nothing. Why? She didn’t know and she didn’t care. Maybe it was a time thing, as was her not kicking it down.

 

Her walks continues again, and for another hour she goes without finding anything or anyone. She stops for a moment, leaning against a rock. God this was nice. Was nice being the key word because a shout of, “Mom, look! Look, look, Mom! Moooom!” rings out over the sands. Oh.  Her.  The Girl turns to see that, yes, there the Woman is, with her brat in tow. As always she’s smiling. Urgh, and double urgh for that initial urghing.

 

The Boy runs on ahead only to be grabbed by the shoulder. His “mother”, to use her religious parlance, wasn’t about to let him charge forth towards the Demoness apparently. Funny. She usually had so little self preservation around the Girl. Look at her, keeping her distance. It’s nice in a way. Smart too, as is teaching her “son”.. It keeps the Girl right where she is, instead of sending her back to the mansion in exasperation. The Woman was bound to be a pest, but for the time being she’s proving to be interesting.

 

“Hello!” the Woman calls, “Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” She looks up and then down at the floor, then says, “Granted, I never really expect you so I guess that is kind of pointless to say.” The Girl says nothing and stares on at her. It makes the Woman frown. “Being enigmatic as always, I see. It’s nice to see you either way. I guess.”

 

The Girl doesn’t respond to that either. She simply watches the mutant wriggle out of his “mother’s” grasp. “You don’t need to hold me, I’m not going to run anymore, Mom, urgh.” He doesn’t run either. Huh.

 

“Kankri you know what I’ve said about using that tone with me,”

 

“But Mom-”

 

“Mother.”

 

The Boy refuses to repeat her. his face scrunches up and he turns away to sulk. The Woman sighs but makes no effort to correct him. Probably thinks it’s not the time for a lesson, and she’s probably right. Not that the Girl is going to do much now; it pays to be careful when you’re the maid. “So, what brings you out here tonight?” the Woman asks, laying a hand on the Boy’s head. He hisses and pulls away, and the Woman rolls her eyes.

 

It really is strange seeing the two of them. The Girl has watched them before, both at earlier and later points in their lives. There was an earnest attempt at being a lusus to the kid, and the Woman mixes it with her religion. She models herself a Mother and this boy her Son, hopefully soon to be Brother. So the Girl assumes she hopes. 

 

As she watches the pair fuss the Girl has an idea. It’s dumb and it might not amount to anything, but it very well could be worth a shot. Now how to set this in motion? The Woman thankfully gives her an opening. “Sorry about that,” she says smoothing out her dress, “Anyway. Like I asked earlier, what are you doing out here tonight?”

 

Perfect. The Girl pushes herself from the rock and leers on at the Woman. She’d like to grin really, but now was not the time. Maybe the time would come soon, but for now the time was to be spent intimidating her. She takes a step forward and says, “What do you think?”

 

The Girl watches as the Woman steps in front of her “son”. She rests a hand on him and standing tall she says, “Ah. Yes. That. Now as I’m sure that you’re quite busy I’ll apologize. Sorry about holding you up, it was nice seeing you. Go on now. Work to be done.”

 

“You know what I mean,” the Girl says as she casually pulls out a knife. Probably won’t use it. No, it’s not either of their times to die yet and things might get out of hand. Makes good as a threat though, she sees. The Woman tenses up and glares at her. Good, good. Might be worth it.

 

“No, I’m afraid I don’t. Now, please. Run along and do your work,” the Woman says firmly. The Boy pulls at her skirts and she whispers a placation to him. Everything will be all right. The words are true, though the Woman doesn’t know it. Lying to someone like that is sickening though and the Girl scowls. Helps with the intimidation, funnily enough.

 

“I’m going to get my work done. Right here. Right now,” she says. She watches the Woman closely. Woman is staring right at her, her muscles are tensing. The Woman is getting ready for a fight. Good. The Girl honestly thought the Woman might try diplomacy alone, she mellows out so much later in her life. To help seal the deal the Girl looks directly at the Boy. looking right into those still black soon to be crimson eyes she pulls out yet another knife. Two is definitely not needed. They’ll go right back. Funny thing though, to see how he doesn’t cower. The Boy is afraid definitely, she can tell by looking. He isn’t cowering though. If anything he is defiant. Maybe he picked that up from the Woman. Trolls learn from their lusii, after all. Or fakes ones in the Boy’s case. And hers too, for that matter, picking up His idea of “jokes”.

 

“As I said, I respect that you’re a busy woman. Now will you just leave us be,” the Woman says. She sounds desperate. Probably wants to avoid a fight, which is sensible.

 

“Can’t do that,” the Girl says as she walks forward. She’ll keep this up for another ten paces and then rush the pair. Will be fun to see if the Woman moves first.

 

And lo and behold she does. The Woman pushes the Boy back while shouting for him to run. No weapon is pulled out and she doesn’t turn back to see if he’s listening. She runs towards the Girl, determined. Good to see the Woman wasn’t all bark and no bite. The Girl stows the knives back into her sylladex and eyes the Woman. Observing to see just what she’ll do. If she has a weapon she’s not one to show it right away it seems, which rules out anything with any appreciable length. As close as she’s getting it could be a knife or maybe nothing at all. Either or is fine and the Girl tenses herself in anticipation. The fun is starting.

 

She lets the Woman have the first shot. It’s partly a gift, though she figures the Woman won’t see if that way. Things are more fun this way too, let’s the Girl have a chance to learn. Learn she does as what comes isn’t a knife nor a punch. It’s not a clawing nor the trademark bite of the rainbow drinkers. It’s a knee, kicked sharply up and towards the Girl, just right to hit her square in the stomach, and the Woman even manages it. It’s been awhile since the Girl has actually fought a rainbow drinker. She’d forgotten how fast the devils were. The kick knocks the wind out of her, a kick that’d take down a lesser troll. Especially when the Woman doesn’t let up. As the Girl catches herself she spies the Woman raise an arm. She drops this hard and fast, trying to crack her elbow against the Girl’s head.

 

The move was badly time, however. The Girl has already taken a step back, one move is all she needs to avoid the strike. This isn’t at all what the Girl had expected of the Woman and it’s all the better for it. She smiles even, which that dumb woman probably assumes is an insult. She understands so little. The Girl’s stance solidified well enough she throws a punch, aiming for the Woman’s torso. The blow connects. Nice and satisfying, and she punches at the Woman again for good measure. Get them while they’re off, even if only for a second. These things mean a lot.

 

As with the first the second connects. If anything the Woman doesn’t appear to be making any effort to dodge her punches. Certainly not the second one, which she takes entirely without argument. Teeth grit, the Woman lifts up both her arms and reaches forth with her elbows. She’s trying to lock the Girl between them, a fact that she wisens to quickly. The Girl rams her forearm hard against the Woman to push her off. She succeeds at that. Good. Not giving the Woman a moment of pause, she sweeps a leg forward. The effort to trip the Woman succeeds, but the Woman pulls her down with her, hand gripped tightly to her dress.

 

On the floor the Woman tries to crack the Girl over the head yet again. This time she manages it, elbow colliding with the Girl’s skull. The Girl pushes herself up, savoring the pain. Pain is good at times, shows the fight is worth something. Fills her with the vain hope that she’ll die this day too. She knows she won’t, but a girl could hope. Again the Woman tries to lock her head against her, and again the Girl avoids it. She twists, turning her head to smack the arm with her horn. Some days the things came in handy, but only some. Up and in a position of advantage the Girl punches straight down at the Woman. She nails her right in the nose, feeling cartilage snap. Satisfying feeling.

 

Trolls never give up the ghost easy though, with a few pathetic exceptions. Arm not caught on the Girl’s horn anymore the Woman grabs at it and pulls down roughly. The Girl is yanked forward a tad, keeping herself definitely on top. Having to strain against the one hand gives the Woman enough leverage to push the Girl off, however. The Girl rolls away doing her damnedest to keep from being pinned down. She’s aggressive though, the Woman. Wasting no time she stomps down at the Girl, just barely missing.

 

That miss gives the Girl enough time to grab at the Woman’s leg. Down she goes yet again, though the Girl doesn’t pin her to the ground again. She scrambles to her feet, still smiling away. Up on two feet again she decides to partake in one of her few delights: kicking a troll while she’s down. She gives a good kick the Woman’s torso, taking in the look of pain. The wince is great, and the sound the Woman makes when she stomps down hard on her chest even better. It’s a yelp and the Woman’s bitten her tongue, trail of green blood running down her face. It’s lovely. Very much so. There’s something beautiful about this in a way, the pain. And to have just a little control if only for a moment. 

 

Trolls don’t fall easily though and the Woman tries to pull the Girl back down, being kicked or no. She yanks her leg away and takes two steps back. This gives the Woman enough time to get on her feet again. Curious the Girl lets her have a chance to get a stance down, just to see. She’s got some definite ideas about how the Woman fights but she’d like to be damned sure. Watching she sees the Woman spread her legs and draw her arms up. Like a boxer almost, but not quite, and boxers sure as hell didn’t try to knee their opponents. It’s just what the Girl needs to make a confirmation. Same style as the trolls in the Southeast Alternian jungles. Strange for a desert woman, but then jadebloods hailed from all the harshest environments of the planet. Makes the Girl smirk. Good God, this has been worth it.

 

She has little down time though. The Woman is in on the offensive again and she kicks at the Girl, leg raised high. The girl takes the kick on her arms and pushes the Woman back. She catches herself though, no more tripping it seems. Sends out a punch too, catching the Girl in the stomach. Maybe she’ll get a cracked rib or thee out of this. Broken ribs would suck, but it’d make this moment stand out all the more.

 

Worth it the Woman seems to be because she takes a kneeing to the chest like a champ. It doesn’t take her down, not that the Girl expected it to. Having pushed the Woman back some the Girl punches at the Woman. She connects with her shoulder and punches again. Another hit. The Woman doesn’t cease though, no. She fights on, blocking a third punch. Kneeing at the Girl she hits. Definitely a cracked rib there.  Goody.

 

The Girl doesn’t cheat though. Not in the slightest, though she easily can. The Woman doesn’t deserve that. What she deserves is a good solid fist to the face and she gets one. Off step the Girl has time to grab the Woman’s horn. The Girl yanks roughly on the horn, and though the Woman keeps on her feet she’s in a bad position. Another hands goes to stop one of the Woman’s struggling arms. Both arms full the Girl runs her knee up and into the Woman once, twice, thrice. To cap it off she trips the Woman once more. The Girl goes down with the Woman pinning her to the floor. The Woman struggles as much as she can, arms pulling and legs straining. She can’t escape though, and the Girls savors every last punch to the Woman’s face that she gets. Once, thrice, thrice and the Woman goes down. Not dead. Not yet, but definitely out.

 

A long heavy exhale is given and then a breath taken in. God, that had been worth it. Satisfied the Girl steps off the Woman and looks around. The Boy probably has not run far. Probably hopes to try and collect his “mother’s” unconscious body. No sight of him at a glance, though. Figures. Sighing the Girl hauls the Woman up onto her back. With her in tow the Girl begins a search of the desert. He can’t have run far, and she’s right in that. She finds him hiding behind a rock not five minutes away, wrapped up in his cloak. With a knife in hands, she notes. “Drop the knife, boy, or I’ll make you,” the Girl says, “I’m in a good mood. Don’t waste that.” He doesn’t drop it but he does stare up at his “mother” with a fury in his eyes. Weird kid. “I’m going to guess that camp I saw earlier was yours. If you don’t stab me I’ll have the decency to help your  ‘mom’   back,” she says, that holy word dripping with contempt.

 

The Boy’s nostrils flare and he seems to be weighing his options. Smart kid he hides the knife back into his sylladex. He stands up without a fight, but his eyes don’t leave the Girl’s. Not for a moment. He’s got fire in that look, more passion in him than the Girl has ever felt. What a dumb kid, she thinks. Amusing though. “Good boy,” she says. He doesn't say a word to her and stamps off towards the camp. Even as they get settled in the tent hours later he remains silent. He glares at her all the while she cleans and tends to the Woman’s wounds as best she can. As she lingers to watch them in the night he continues to glare on silently. He keeps quiet the whole night and only as the wee hours of the dawn arrive does he fall asleep. Not of his own volition of course. Still a dumb kid and it’s good to see him asleep. The Girl prefers her watch to be a solo affair. It’s better this way, with him curled up.

 

The hours pass by slowly. If only she’d brought a book along with her to read on the job. But the Girl hadn’t planned on having to idle away hours for no reason. Not a moment of focus to be needed in the tent though. Just simple watching and waiting as the harsh sun beats down on the world outside. Bit dull but pleasant enough. Fucking with the Woman continues to be worth it. Very much so. Even if she can only pass the time going through verses she’s long since memorized. Not in a mood to “write”, so to speak.

 

As the afternoon stretches on the Woman groans. She’s been quiet for quite some time, as has her boy. The Girl looks down at her. Still looks to be alive. Beat up but fine, which means no damned clean up. Good. Groan had the Woman falls silent for another half hour or so. Thirty six minutes and twenty-seven seconds. The Girl could count it down even more precisely if she felt like it, which she didn’t. Again she looks down at the Woman. Still fine but she is stirring. Soon the Girl could be off. Great. The Woman gasps for air awkwardly and groans in pain. Broken nose isn’t something she’s fond or much used to, the Girl guess. Blinking a few times, she looks around. Probably wants to know where she is and where her boy is. Definitely given the growing distress on her face. Feeling generous the Girl says, “He’s asleep on the side of the tent. Didn’t want to sit next to me and he finally got bored of glaring at me.”

 

A hiss of a breath is drawn in and the Girl sees the Woman’s face turn. She’s not distressed or fearful now, not entirely. No, the Woman is pissed. Righteously furious and all over some mutant kid that she grubnapped. She doesn’t say a word though. The Woman simply locks eyes with the Girl. Fidgets a bit and stops when she realizes the pain of it. Smart move. Just stay put the Girl thinks. She won’t kill her of course, but it’s best that the Woman knew things. Stupid trolls died. Died and got boring. “He’s not dead,” the Girl says again, tiring of what she guesses is skepticism, “I’ll go and shake him awake if you want proof. Though I’d think his ‘lusus’ would like for him to rest after his big day.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Eloquent aren’t you?”

 

“Again. Fuck you.”

 

“I don’t even get a thank you for tending to you then,” the Girls says with a shrug. It’s not meant as a serious thing and why would it. This is just her job, but the Woman might think otherwise.

 

The Woman hisses as she can, “I’m not thanking you for almost killing me and my son.” 

 

Good. Dodged that bullet. “Correction. It was only you I attacked. Wasn’t a real effort at killing you either,” the Girl says, “The boy I let hide.”

 

“But you sai-”

 

“It was a joke. Haa haa, hee hee, hoo hoo you know,” the Girl says mimicking His laugh. Soulless, toneless, devoid of any real feeling. Not like the Woman will get the joke but oh well. She wasn’t here to let people in on her fun.

 

“Threatening to kill my son was a joke,” the Woman says. It’s not an inquiry. More an affirmation of what she just heard more than likely. Slow on the uptake here, but that figures. Jadebloods were so dull with their philosophies, and hypocritical besides.

 

“Yep.”

 

“And you almost killed me as a joke.”

 

“Not almost killed, or attempted to. I do have a job to do,” the Girl corrects, “Killing you two isn’t on the list yet.”

 

“The list. Right,” the Woman says as she tries to prop herself up once more. She grits her teeth and swears through her fangs. The Girl has done a good job on her. Great to know. 

 

Still the Woman needs to cut this out. The Girl pushes her back down saying, “He’s fine. Not a job so I’d have to clean up if he was.”

 

“Why are you still fucking here?” the Woman asks, giving in. She turns her head away to glare at the tent wall instead. Hah. “Don’t you have work to do or something?”

  
“I do. Current job is making sure I won’t have to clean up this mess,” the Girl says, stretching her arms out, “Or was. You’re not dead so I don’t have much of a reason to stay. Unless you’re dying for my company.” The Woman says nothing in response. Probably cursing the Girl mentally and good on her for it. “I’ll take that as a no. Oh well, I couldn’t stay even if you wanted,” the Girl says as pulls out her music box. “Have a nice night, ‘Mom’,” she says before she lets go of the key. Right back to the manse for her, fun has been had. Might teach the Woman a thing or two too.


End file.
